Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Wine. I needed more wine.
You’re stalling, bitch.
No shit.
I gathered my hair in a messy bun at the top of my head, then dove into the next moving box. I was just gonna unpack my clothes and hang everything in my walk-in closet. I hadn’t had one of those in New York. I’d had a freaking clothes rack in the hallway.
I had to respond to some emails too.
And look up what kind of power tool I needed to put up photos on exposed brick walls. I loved them so hard, especially when they were painted white like mine, but they were a drag to do anything with.
Then I was definitely going down to the gym!
One box after another… Loose dresses, tees, tunics, button-downs, and so many pairs of leggings and jeggings. My leather jacket, lingerie, more tees, pajama bottoms. My work outfits, basically. Tees and panties.
My phone dinged on my newly assembled nightstand, and I walked over there and saw a message from Chloe.
Girls’ night Saturday the weekend after this one? Say yes! It’ll be you, me, Adeline, and Isla. xo
Saturday next weekend worked. It’d be nice to see Isla and Adeline again too. I’d been introduced to Chloe’s stepdaughter and best friend when she’d married Aiden.
Count me in. xo
Feeling a bit tuckered out, I slumped down on the mattress, and before I could start cursing myself out for not having put together the bed frame yet, I caught sight of my reflection in the full-body mirror on the closet door.
Fucking hell.
My chest tightened with anxiousness and revulsion. What the fuck had I done to myself?
I looked over at where some of my larger picture frames stood against the wall. One of them in particular—it was my favorite photo of me. The photographer had asked for a bit of attitude, and I’d dropped the smile. That photo was the first thing clients and customers saw on my website. Design by Nolan. My leather jacket had fit back then. My love for exposed brick showed in the background. My hair had been a little longer, not to mention styled by a professional.
God-fucking-dammit, I wanted to be her again.
No more stalling. I pushed myself off the mattress again and sent Chloe a text.
Where do you get your hair done? I need an appointment like yesterday. A nail salon too, please! xo
Then I changed into a pair of leggings and a top that flared out underneath my chest. A thin cardigan with that, and—
Chloe texted back.
I’ll hook you up with my girl Kate. She’s amazing. I’ll text her at lunch. For nails, I go down to Cedar Point. There’s a place that just opened next to the pool hall.
Cedar Point, got it. I was familiar with that area by now. It was just south of here, and they had Target, Old Navy, Staples, and all those regular stores.
I sent Chloe a thanks on my way out the door.
Time to enter enemy territory—which had everything to do with the people and nothing to do with what you did there.
In my experience, joining a gym meant encountering two types of employees. Those who assumed you wanted a whole transformation, where you shelled out thousands of dollars to go from “miserable” to “ecstatic.” In other words, from “fat” to “thin.” And then the other staff member who spoke very little because they were either scared to offend or didn’t believe I’d make any progress, so there was no point in investing energy in me.
No matter what, people had the wrong idea about me. The wrong assumptions.
I crossed the street at a quick pace, wanting to get out of the drizzle. It seemed it’d rained all night.
The gym was a wide-open space. A freaking boxing ring in one corner, a large section for gym equipment, and sealed-off rooms—with glass walls anyone could see through—for spin classes, yoga, and whatever. Mirrors, motivational posters, and flat-screens competed for wall space.
Gah, what was wrong with small and cozy?
I opened the door and was immediately assaulted by a cold blast of the AC—and the smell of disinfectant and leather. The front part was a shop where I could pick up shoes, yoga pants, and training bras in neon colors. Supplements too, of course. Oh God. What was I doing here? I didn’t want protein powder with my pancakes. I wanted syrup and butter. One shelf had a ton of water bottles lined up in Pride colors. I liked that bit.
I took a breath and approached the circular front desk in the center, where a young woman with a bright smile waited.
Given the hour, the place was fairly empty, so I had that going for me.
“Hi! Welcome to QFC!”
Oh shoot, I was hoping for KFC.
“Hi.” I smiled politely and tried to unclench, but I fucking couldn’t. I was so tense and uncomfortable here. “I would like to sign up for a membership and hopefully talk to someone about a workout schedule and diet plan.”